Living in Sin
by CloudGateau
Summary: Nobody told Rachael Hertz that out of all the career advertisements she could have picked, a position in the Vongola’s Varia meant living and working with six highly accomplished assassins. Even in a dysfunctional family, one has to fit in. Pairings...?
1. Fate is Plotting my Demise

Rachael Hertz & fanfiction: CloudGateau

Passing reference to The Varia's Hiring: Expresso-Latte.

Katekyo Hitman Reborn concept: Akira Amano

Pairings: None

**Living in Sin**

_Intro .:One Dead, one broken:._

_It's about time we got some new members…_

_

* * *

_

Every person on Earth has or will have experienced a life changing event (unless of course, the person dies an untimely death). When and how each person experiences his or her life-defining moment, differs from person to person. Some encounter it early on in life and others at the brink of death. Most people however, do not realize when they come across it.

Fran wrinkled his nose as he glanced up at the poster.

Class ended a while ago at Turin Academy and Fran was on his way home when he spotted a hiring poster outside a hair salon.

"Recruiting members for the Varia," Fran read monotonously, "Dissatisfied with life? Stuck at a dead end job? Then wouldn't you prefer the thrill and excitement of working in the mafia?"

.::.

Elsewhere in the glamorous, metropolitan city of Milan, Rachael Hertz read the exact same advertisement in the job section of the Milano Times.

"Dominate the masses with an iron fist. Learn the art of assassination from the best of the best! Hone and sharpen your dodging and survival skills. Look badass kicking butt wherever you go!" Rachael murmured to herself.

Rachael uncurled her legs from the crouching position she assumed atop a threadbare chair. She picked up her bowl of Milanese risotto and shoveled the rest of it into her mouth.

Rachael chewed thoughtfully as she glanced around the tine, cluttered apartment space.

The space contained only two rooms, a living room and bathroom. To accommodate the small space, Rachael slept on a futon. The table she currently hunched over doubled as a workspace and dining table. It partially barricaded her clothing packed closet. In a corner of the room were a rusty but sturdy bicycle, a few boxes of Instant Ramen, and a duffle bag.

Rachael sighed. A month ago, the Arma dei Carabinieri fired her because she mortally injured her coworker and arch-rival, Achille Lombardi.

The incident wasn't entirely her fault.

Achille and another moron got into an argument and so everyone proposed a 'Third Party Ro Sham Bo'. The judge elected her the 'kicker', unaware that she shared a long history with Achille. And so, she fulfilled her duty as kicker with much gusto and rendered Achille a pitiful mess on the floor.

Nurses rushed him to the infirmary and after they discharged Achille, he made sure that Rachael paid for the relentless pain and humiliation he suffered.

A week later, Rachael received her pay and was dismissed from the 3rd Carabinieri Battalion of Milan.

.::.

Requirements: strong, preferably small in size, experienced in killing, independent, efficient, and extremely durable," Fran listed off.

He looked down at his petite frame and skinny legs, "Check."

Fran itched to get rid of the ridiculous sailor uniform Turin Academy forced boys to wear. The beret made the costume a hundred times worse. He hoped, prayed, and wished from Santa, that once the Varia accepted him, he'd never wear another stupid hat, ever again.

.::.

"Well, I don't know about 'cute,' but I'm a size six and I'm single so yeah, I'm pretty much a shoe in" Rachael chuckled. "Experienced in killing? Well I'm positive I killed _something _when I kicked that damn Achille between the legs…" Rachael's smile vanished. "But, do I really want to go this route? I'm not technically in poverty…"

.::.

A clock chimed nearby, its gongs eerily disembodied through the foggy streets. Fran hastily jotted down the phone number and address before he rushed home, the fog growing thicker.

.::.

"Ah Scheiße!" The water she boiled bubbled out of the pot and shorted out her mini-stove. Rachael scrambled off her seat and wrenched open the windows which tore one of the panes out of the wall.

Panicking, Rachael quickly dropped the smoking stove out the window. For once, Rachael felt happy that the apartment dumpster that stood below her window accomplished something, other than waft rotten garbage past her window.

As Rachael stood in silence before the frigid air that stole in through her window, she sneezed. "I… need a job. And a new stove. And someone to fixed this hole in my wall."

.::.

Fran reached up and pushed the ceiling tile to the side. Ever so gently, he slid his worldly possessions from the cavity and packed them in his school bag.

He thumbed the 1300 Euros he saved from over the years, replaced the ceiling tile and hopped down from his bed. Fran lifted the window pane of his bedroom, took one last survey of his bedroom and slid outside, left 16 years of miserable life behind him.

.::.

Making up her mind, Rachael tossed on a coat, wrapped herself snuggly in a scarf, and hefted the duffle bag onto her shoulder. She tucked her passport into her breast pocket, rolled out her creaking bike and swung a leg over it.

Her breath turning to vapor in the chilly, bitter air, Rachael grinned to herself.

"_I'm off to Sicily."_

_

* * *

_

**(AN: The following information pertaining to this fanfiction is historically/culturally/geographically etc. accurate. Cited from Wikipedia and Google Maps)**

_1. Turin: Northern Italy, Piedmont region. During the winter and autumn months banks of fog become thick. (Fran=Varia Mist=Fog)_

_2. Milan: Northern Italy; renowned as one of the world capitals of design and fashion._

_3. Milanese Risotto: a rich and creamy, traditional Italian rice dish. It is one of the most common ways of cooking rice in Italy._

_4. Arma dei Carabinieri: the national gendarmerie of Italy, policing both the military and civilian populations. Rachael belonged to the 3rd Carabinieri Battalion "Lombardy" in Milan before she was given the boot._

_5. Third Party Ro Sham Bo: When two men kick each other repeatedly between the legs until one of them gives up. In the third party version, a third person is nominated the "kicker". The kicker is used to equalize kicks enabling a sense of fairness to degrees of pain endured.  
(The Kickers kicks are equal in caliber of force as opposed to standard RSB which puts the man with stronger legs in favor, as well as leaves kicking force unregulated.  
The third party kicker must be unbiased towards the two opponents or hate them both equally.)_


	2. Walking on Sunshine Broke my Bones

Rachael Hertz & fanfiction: CloudGateau

Katekyo Hitman Reborn concept: Akira Amano

Pairings: None

**Living in Sin**

_Chapter 1 .:One Dead, one broken:._

_We're gonna get some new members…_

_

* * *

_

Palermo, Sicily:.

For the first time in his life, Fran actually regretted living in the cradle of European cultures and peoples. Italy was located in the Mediterranean but he'd the climate as bad as _this_.

The humid climate had reduced the snow to a soggy pile of mush, in which he forced himself to trek through. Wet snow slicked off tree branches and roofs onto his poor, unwary self and slid down the collar of his coat which soaked his undergarments. Sweat beaded on his forehead and collected on his back in a sweaty patch as he clambered uphill to the Varia headquarters. The mush soaked his socks through the worn down soles of his boots and so a sound, comparable to a plunger tugged from a toilet, accompanied his steps.

To sum it up, Fran was miserable. Tired and damp, he had no choice but to sit atop a radiator to dry off once he reached the castle. Though after a while, Fran felt comfortable and warm as he sat there on the radiator and watched the other Varia hopefuls chat. The sumptuous room they waited in wasn't all that bad either; they could lounge on comfy chairs, plump cushions, and enjoy the free heat.

Fran decided to close his eyes and doze off for a while in the pleasant heat. Just when he was about off slip into blissful sleep, a loud, obnoxious voice broke the amiable atmosphere.

"**VOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!**"

Everybody jumped. Some people even fell from their seats in shock. Fran quickly regained his composure for he nearly tumbled off the radiator and looked towards the source of the disturbance. There, looking rather impressive in front of the open doors stood a tall figure with waist-length silver hair. Upon further inspection, Fran discovered that it was in fact, a **man** who had so boisterously announced himself.

Rachael was reclined comfortably on a plush divan, sound asleep, until the shrill fanfare of a voice had abruptly caused her to tumble from her seat.

She cycled from Milan down to Genoa and then taken the train down to the port-city of Reggio Calabria. After she took the ferry across the Strait of Messina, Rachael continued via bicycle to Palermo. Both the noisy train and the crowded ferry prevented her from getting any sleep.

Now Rachael just lay there on the floor in a bemused sort of way, vaguely aware of her pounding eardrums. Her eyes focused and zeroed in on the culprit who had disrupted the peace.

Rachael couldn't help but goggle at what she saw: what appeared to be a man with (what she could not fathom), gorgeous hair and behind him, a distressingly flamboyant man of around forty.

"What are you gawking at woman?!" the loud one snarled. Rachael jolted. His sleek and shiny his hair had her in awe.

Without thinking, Rachael asked, "Can I touch your hair?!"

The moment it left her mouth, Rachael regretted ever learning how to talk. The dumbstruck look on his face, the snickers behind her and the exuberant glee of the flamboyant one did nothing but add to the flames.

"I-I mean, it's very shiny and… uh, what brand conditioner do you use?"

Judging from the silent laughter that erupted from behind her, Rachael suspected she merely made it worse. The vein on the loud one's forehead was pulsating slightly.

"I know! I've always told Squalo that he could be in a hair care commercial. He has **such** beautiful hair. It'd be so much of a waste… I'm Lussuria by the way. Have you ever tried Kèratase Nutritive Elasto Shampoo? It really rejuvenates curly hair and gives it a lot of _oomph_ without drying---"

"**SHUT UP!** Now **isn't** the time to be socializing dammit!" the one named Squalo roared, drowning out the full blown laughter that burst out during Lussuria's discourse. Giving Rachael one last are-you-out-of-your-fucking-mind-don't-ever-say-that-ever-again look, Squally huffily turned the other way, sending more death glares at towards the sniggering competitors.

"Okay then! Let's get started shall we? To those who are here that don't know, I'm Lussuria and the pretty one is Squalo---"

"**VOI!!!**"

"--We'll start with a little interview and get to know your personal experience, your reasons in doing this and all that good stuff!" Lussuria trilled unperturbed. "To those who are already a part of the Varia and are here because they want the promotion, follow Squalo! Ooooh! That rhymes!"

Squalo grunted and jerked his head towards the doors. Soon, more than half of the participants left as the door shut behind the last person with a quiet thump.

"Okay! Since it'll be more fun this way, let's go in a circle and introduce ourselves. I'll start. So again, I'm Lussuria. I lived in Milan and I used to be a magazine editor for Glamour. At the same time, I was learning Muay Thai on the side in order to keep fit and all. Then, one day at the MMAWFC, I was scouted for the Varia. At first, I couldn't part with my job, but I guess it just won me over eventually. Not that my job wasn't _fabulous_ and all, I guess I just loved Muay Thai more. And the fact that I just **had** to redesign those hideous uniforms." Lussuria shuddered and then looked to Rachael expectantly.

"Huh? Oh, Rachael Hertz. I'm also from Milan---"

"_Ohhh_… what part?" Lussuria was ecstatic.

"I live in the Giannino Apartments on Via Sciesa Amatore."

"Really? I live near the Piazza Duca d'Aosta. Come visit me sometime after this is over. I know this place that makes the best panettone. It's in this little bakery shop of the corner of---oh how rude of me. I'm completely interrupting you, go on then."

"Er… where was I? Oh yeah. I was an officer in the Carabinieri, but I got kicked out for kicking this one guy in the nuts and so," Rachael said with a sigh, "I need a job, basically."

Rachael turned to the next person who hesitated. He, like the rest of the men in the room (excluding Lussuria) winced when they heard her story. Some even crossed their legs, wary of her.

Lussuria coughed, pressing him to continue. And so, they went around introducing themselves and as each person gave their presentation, Lussuria jotted notes down on his clipboard.

After half an hour, they finished and Lussuria pranced over to the next room to check up on Squalo. Judging from the loud reaction from the next room, Squalo was surprised.

"VOI! How the hell did you finish so fast?!"

Lussuria returned to tell them that they had time to socialize. He immediately flounced over to where Rachael sat and began to talk about hair, beauty products and all the places he'd visited. Rachael nodded and smiled sheepishly for the most part but he seemed very pleasant. Lussuria only decided to stop when he told her a competitor caught his eye. In a flash he disappeared and Rachael unaware of what happened.

Rachael got up and made her way towards Fran, who had perched himself on the radiator again.

"So… you ran away from home huh? How come?"

Fran admitted that he ran away from home during their pow wow.

"I didn't like the uniform they made me wear," he said bluntly.

Rachael gazed at him, expressionless. "You hated it that much, to have run away?"

"It was a sailor uniform with a stupid beret. They don't even _go_ together."

Rachael snorted with laughter but stopped herself quickly at the expression on his face.

"Ah, ah, spiacente. Francesco was it?"

"No, Fran. I suggested a legal name change and my parents thought I was just going through a rebellious phase."

There was a moment of silence. Rachael considered something.

"You know, I ran away from home once when I was around ten."

Fran looked up, mildly interested.

"But not for the reason you ran away." Rachael grinned. "I ran away because I wanted to join the circus. I thought, it'd be fun to tame the lions. So, when I heard the circus was in town, I took off in the middle of the night and snuck into the tents. But, the bearded lady caught me and she sent to the police station for my parents to pick me up." Rachael smiled to herself, apparently lost in though.

"Did they get angry at you?"

"Hell yeah they were pissed. Dad yelled at me for nearly an hour while mom cried. Then, they send me to my room and told me that I couldn't leave the house for the remainder of the year without a chaperone. Man was I mad but it's rather funny once you look back on it." Glancing down at Fran, Rachael wondered if her words, although completely fabricated, had left an impression on him. Rachael never actually ran away to the circus, but it seemed appropriate at the time to lie.

But before he could say anything, Lussuria announced, "Attention everybody! We are done interviewing and we'll now begin the first round of elimination! Illusionists, please stand on this side of the room. I will be supervising you," Lussuria said, gesturing to where he was standing. "The rest of you will be tested by Squalo."

"We're going to have a battle royale," Squalo continued, "Illusionists and combatants are separated since we only need one of each. The last one standing from each group will get the positions. The losers get the fuck out."

"Oh boy…"

* * *

**(AN: The following information pertaining to this fanfiction is historically/culturally/geographically etc. accurate. Cited from Wikipedia and Google Maps)**

_1. Palermo, Italy: a historic city in southern Italy, the capital of the autonomous region Sicily and the province of Palermo. Palermo enjoys a typical Mediterranean climate with mild, wet winters and warm to hot, dry summers. The Mafia is said to have originated in Palermo._

_2. Genoa (Genova), Italy: a city and an important seaport in northern Italy, the capital of the Province of Genoa and of the region of Liguria._

_3. Reggio Calabria, Italy: A historic city in southern (tip of the boot of) Italy, the capital of the Province of Reggio Calabria as well as the largest and oldest city in the Calabria region._

_4. Strait of Messina: the narrow section of water between the eastern tip of Sicily and the southern tip of Calabria in the country of Italy._

_5. Kèratase Nutritive Elasto Shampoo: A 'best bet' in InStyle magazine and also mentioned in the famous 'Shecky's Beauty Book 2006.'_

_6. Glamour Magazine: a women's fashion magazine published by Condé Nast Publications._

_7. Muay Thai: a form of hard martial art practiced in large parts of the world, including Thailand and other Southeast Asian countries._

_8. MMAWFC: World Fighting Championships Mixed Martial Arts_

_9. Giannino Apartments on Via Sciesa Amatore: located a few blocks from the Cabanerieri police station in Milan_

_10. Piazza Duca d'Aosta: a piazza near Milan's busy "Stazione Centrale" the main railway station._

_11. Panettone: a typical bread of Milan, usually prepared and enjoyed for Christmas and New Year around Italy, and one of the symbols of the city._

_12. Spiacente: 'Sorry' in Italian_

_13. Francesco: Francis in Italian_

_14. Battle Royale: a multi-competitor match type in which competitors are eliminated until one is left and declared winner._


	3. Lady Luck Must Have a Thing For Me

Rachael Hertz & fanfiction: CloudGateau

Katekyo Hitman Reborn concept: Akira Amano

Pairings: None

**Cloud:** Hey you guys, sorry for not updating in what, 7 months. But, it's summer and here's a 3000+ word chapter! enjoy~

**Living in Sin**

_Chapter 2 .:One Dead, one broken:._

_There's gonna be some new members…_

_

* * *

_

"Heeey, get a move on, we haven't got all day!" Squalo drawled as he herded the combatants down the hallway. Lussuria and Squalo had each taken a group of competitors.

Rachael vaguely wondered if Fran would be okay with all those older combatants. He was half their age not to mention on the scrawny side. Insecurities and worries ran their course when Squalo stopped before a pair of doors at the end of the hall and flung them open.

Through the doors was a white, spacious room furnished with a number of large, granite blocks which dotted the room at random. A number of thick, ornate pillars supported the high ceiling. Most of the light in the room came from the narrow glassless slits high up on the walls.

"Okay damn newbies, start fighting."

Everybody turned around to stare blankly at him.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get to it damn _idioti_!" And with that, Squalo promptly turned on his heel slammed the doors behind him.

The competitors gazed at the door for a few seconds until the gentle rustle of clothing brought some back to their senses. It seemed like the more gung ho contenders had begun to ready themselves for battle.

Rachael glanced around the room in alarm-- this was going to end badly.

.::.

Elsewhere, Fran thought along the same lines. Most of the cockier illusionists had suddenly decided for themselves that Fran was just some snotty kid, way in over his head.

"C'mon kid, just give it up. If ya do, no one's gonna hafta hurt ya," one combatant sneered.

"Yeah, just run home to _mamma _and we promise this won't get ugly," another mockingly cooed in Fran's ear.

The corner of Fran's mouth twitched as he slowly reached in to his pocket.

.::.

"Oh… my… Chuck."

Rachael dove behind a pillar as the first cries of battle erupted all around her. Rachael cowered and clutched her dufflebag tightly against her chest.

"_Oh Mein Gott!_" Rachael screwed her eyes close as a light flashed and the first blood curdling screams or many pierced the air. Gunshots rang and the strange snarls of beasts reverberated around the room, adding to the din. The short breaths Rachael drew were laced with the earthy scent blood, sweat and gunpowder.

After a few minutes, Rachael deemed it safe to open an eye and tentatively peeked out from between her fingers. At that moment however, a body was flung past her and into the wall with a resounding crack. The body crumpled onto the dusty floors with a thud.

Still staring at the stirring body, Rachael realized she had drawn blood from biting into her lip in alarm. Unknownst to her, as Rachael wiped the blood with a sleeve, the body had awoken from his stupor and shakily crawled onto his knees. He tenderly shifted his leg with a faint crackle and grunted in pain.

Rachael looked up and froze. The man's head turned slowly to meet her stare and they both remained motionless.

The man then reached behind him as he inched forward with intent in his eyes. Rachael, panicking tried to scoot as far away from him as possible while staying hidden behind the pillar. He advanced closer to Rachael, his head now directly above her bent legs as he held a knife to her throat.

Without thinking, Rachael kicked upwards, kneeing him under the jaw. The man collapsed onto his side with a thud and Rachael quickly wrenched the knife from his hands. She pointed it at him with slightly trembling hands, waiting for him to get up.

Letting out a silent gasp of relief when he didn't, she quickly scooted back into her original position. Then with the toe of her boot, Rachael pushed the body away from her towards the way and drew her legs up to chest again.

.::.

Squalo sank into a chair with a content sigh. It was only a matter of time before a victor would emerge from either group.

Propping his legs onto a heavy oak table, he leaned his head back into a comfortable position and swept his hair from his face. In a few minutes, he would check back on their process.

Everything ran smoothly according to plan-- maybe even _too_ well.

Within a fraction of a second, Squalo sensed the whistling of a weapon as it sliced through the air. His chair exploded in a dusty cloud of shrapnel just as he flipped out of his seat. Pieces of stuffing and wood rained down upon him and caught in his silvery hair.

The sandy haze of debris cleared to reveal a large battleaxe in the chair's place. A figure jumped down from the ceiling and tugged the axe from the floor.

"Hmph. That's what was missing," Squalo smirked, whipping out his sword. "I told that _fessacchione_ that recruiting members through a fucking ad would end like this."

Now, more figures appeared around him, some of whom he recognized as contenders for the Cloud and Mist positions.

Squalo smirked, "Bring it on then! Let's make this worthwhile you trash!"

.::.

Rachael peeked out from behind her pillar and nearly choked on her spit. In addition to the rubble and unconscious bodies strewn about the room, several fire engulfed animals appeared out of nowhere.

The remaining three contenders failed to notice the blazing animals as completely out of the ordinary. As they sized one another up, Rachael noticed that all three contenders produced a violet flame from the rings they were wearing.

One suddenly pressed his flaming fist to a small box he held in his other hand. Rachael's eyes widened as a hyena, bathed in flickering, violet flames sprung from the tiny box.

However, the other box animal, a panther, suddenly leapt onto the hyena biting and clawing into its back. The contenders themselves simultaneously hurdled at each other in a fierce brawl.

A blazing, violet-tinged vulture flying overhead suddenly swooped down, knocking over one of the combatants. As the fallen competitor struggled to her feet, the vulture swept around and dove for another attack.

Rachael gaped as the vultures split into two, and then four, until there was a swarm of black and purple shooting towards the girl.

In one fluid motion, the box hyena had freed itself from the panther and snatched a vulture from the air. The remaining vultures swooped around the hyena, pecking and gouging the beast.

The girl attempted to summon another box animal but fell over comatose when one of the other two combatants struck her over the head with the blunt side of his spear.

He quickly turned to meet the remaining contender but dropped to his knees when the panther pounced onto him and clamped down upon his neck. Rachael stifled a gasp as blood gushed out from between the beast's jaws. The man dropped forward onto his face and lay there motionless with a deep, throaty rattle.

The residual competitor, who she identified from her group as Luciano, stood there silently wiping the blood from his cheek.

The panther circled around her master's legs, tail swishing from side to side. Rachael's eyes followed the metronome-like swing of its tail and let out a shaky rasp of air. She suddenly realized her mistake when the panther's ears perked and turned to look towards her.

Rachael ducked behind her pillar, hand clamped tightly around her mouth.

"My, my, do we still have one last piggy left?" He gestured silently to _Nube di Pantera_, who began to advance towards Rachael's hiding spot.

The soft bottoms of the panther's paws cushioned every step she made towards her prey. Pantera tread closer and closer towards the pillar until her head came right next to the column.

With a snarl, she rounded the column to find nothing but air. Pantera's amber eyes traveled to rest on the two bodies slumped against the wall.

Cautiously, Pantera picked her way towards the bodies and sniffed the closest one. She did not sense reek of increased perspiration or the beating heart quicken. Pantera deemed this human truly cataleptic and moved onto the next cadaver.

_There._

Pantera had located her prey_. _The increased tempo of Rachael's heart could not deceive Pantera's sensitive ears.

Pantera flattened her ears and lowered her body onto the floor, preparing to attack until she noticed her tail come in contact with something foreign. Pantera rolled the object into her line of vision-- a black, cylindrical canister.

Rachael screwed her eyes tightly as an intense light emanated from the cylinder, enveloping her, Pantera and the rest of the room in a blinding whiteness.

It was a good thing Rachael decided to keep the unused flashbang grenades that were left over from her assignments back at the Carabinieri.

.::.

When Luciano's vision returned to its original intensity, he quickly strode over to the pillar to find Pantera shaking her head in irritation and eyes narrowed in confusion.

With a look of absolute disgust on his face, Luciano held his box out and Pantera dissolved into purple flames that retreated into its box.

.::.

Squalo straightened up and smirked in triumph. The infiltrators had put up more of a fight than he had originally thought.

As Squalo brushed the dust off his clothing and out of his hair, one defeated assassin struggled onto his feet. All of a sudden, he hunched over and coughed blood into his hands.

The Administration would not be pleased with him. His only two choices: return to the family, triumphant or in a coffin, unsuccessful.

A hand suddenly pulled him upwards and he found himself face to face with a snarling Squalo.

"So, what weak, foolish family decided to challenge the Vongola Famiglia?"

The assailant kept his jaw clenched as he stared stonily at the growling shark.

"Heeeeey, if you're not going to talk, then I'll make sure you never talk again." Squalo raised the blade into the assassin's open mouth, nudging the corner of his cheek gently.

Squalo received only a strained silence as a response before he flung his attacker into a wall.

"Che, well that was a waste of time."

Just then, Lussuria walked in, stopping short at the carnage that lay at his feet.

"Oh my, what happened here?"

His long haired team member merely stomped over to him and gave the older man a well intentioned knee to the stomach.

"Guh! Commander, what was that for?!"

Squalo scowled, "Are those sunglasses painted over? What are you, fucking blind?!"

He trudged huffily over to the nearest body and flipped him onto his back.

"Look, these half-rate hitmen were sent to sabotage us, possibly even kill us. And how did they find us? Through YOUR advertisement! Didn't you think just maybe _someone _would try and take advantage of that?"

"But you took care of it Squalo, so we're fine. And even if someone stronger was sent, we could have still crushed them. We are of Varia quality after all," Lussuria piped.

"Feh!"

:~:.

Glaring guardedly around the room, Luciano carefully swept the room with eyes, trying to detect any signs of deception. He glided over to a random corpse, kicking it over. Nothing.

On the far corner of the room, Rachael shrunk into the shadow of a large cube-like structure as Luciano strode past. As the clicking of his heels on the hard, stone floor faded away, Rachael let out a quiet sigh and proceeded to rummage through her dufflebag.

All that she had left were several flashbang grenades, a _Beretta AR70/90 _she never returned, and travel items that were barely enough to sustain damage to a mouse, let alone a panther. Oh, and_no ammo._

The flashbangs would give away her position and she couldn't keep hiding forever.

Rachael inhaled deeply, held it in for 3 seconds, and let the air escape from her like a deflating balloon.

'_Think dammit, think!'_

As she racked her brain for a solution, images of the bedroom she slept in as a child flashed in her memory.

She remembered the great oak tree that stood sentinel outside her window and how each night, the street lights would illuminate the branches. And on windy nights, the branches thrashed and flexed like a giant, gnarly hand. But what especially terrified her 4 year-old self was how the hand would whip back and forth, in and out of view from the window so that she always imagined something was hiding outside her window.

"_That's it!"_

As Luciano wound his way back towards where Rachael's hiding spot, a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Luciano slowed his pace as he cautiously moved closer to the pillar, eyes lasered in onto the corner of a jacket. Baiting his breath, Luciano rounded the corner ready to face his enemy.

His eyes widened in frustration when he realized the jacket was snagged on a jutting piece of rubble.

He exhaled softly through his nose and he turned around to see a blur of black before a blunt instrument smashed into his face. Furiously blinking away the stars that danced in his vision, Luciano stumbled back and reached for his box weapon when the butt of the _Beretta_ rammed itself into his groin.

A sickening flash of color exploded before his eyes and a terrible pain rose up his abdomen before he reeled over and fell onto his side. He let a high pitched noise as he convulsed horribly, hands gripped tight in front in an attempt to stifle the ungodly pain.

Kicking the box that Luciano had dropped a good distance away, Rachael let out a sigh of relief and leaned on the Beretta as she surveyed the battlefield. A far as she could see, she was the only one left standing.

With a sniff, Rachael picked her way forwards towards the door. Miraculously, the wooden doors remained undamaged.

Before she could raise a fist to the door, they swung open with a loud bang and there stood Squalo as sullen as ever.

His gray eyes swept the battlegrounds until they came to rest on Rachael who cringed slightly under his hard gaze.

"You! You're the only one left?!" Squalo said indignantly "Don't tell me that you singlehandedly wiped out every other competitor here?!"

But before Rachael could say anything, Lussuria bound happily into the room, bulldozing a stoic Fran in front.

Rachael thought Fran wore a grim look of satisfaction as Lussuria wheeled him in beside her and under the scrutinizing eyes of Superbi Squalo.

"Ah… Rachael was it? You survived, congratulations." He held out a hand.

"Eh… um… thank you," Rachael replied with a wry smile. She grasped his hand briefly before Squalo interrupted.

"Voi! Enough socializing! Turn and face me."

He gestured to Lussuria who handed him two manila files. He opened one and read it with eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You! Fran!" Squalo addressed roughly, "it says here you're a student from Turin and your master is the Vongola mist Guardian, Rokudo Mukuro?"

"Yes."

"Didn't I scout you for the Varia?"

"Did you?"

"We contacted you through your email. Didn't you get a job request from vhqvongola at CosaNostra. com?"

"Oh… that was you? I just assumed it was spam or some pedophile trying to—"

"Yes it was us!" The vein on Squalo's forehead pulsed.

"Did you by chance send a blond guy who called himself a prince---?"

"Belphegor."

"He tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. I only managed to get rid of him when I dove into the Po River," Fran said in an undertone to Rachael.

Giving an exasperated grunt, he turned to the other folder and read out,

"Rachael… Hertz?"

"Y-Yes."

A pause. "What kind of family name is Hertz?"

"I'm German on my father's side." Rachael couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated as well as peeved by this loud, silver haired man.

"And you used to be a plumber?" His criticizing eyes peered over the top of the folder.

Rachael flushed.

"Uh, briefly. I needed a job."

"Then, you went on to complete training in the Carabinieri? Those useless idiots?"

Rachael pursed her lips as the tips of her ears grew steadily redder.

_Only in the media!_

"Yes sir," she said with slight animosity.

"I don't see how some brat from the Carabinieri could've wiped out everyone in this room without so much of a scratch."

"But that only means she is of Varia quality," Lussuria broke in, saving Rachael the pain of explaining.

"Hmph, I haven't assessed your skills yet because of a slight setback on our part," Squalo said, glaring at Lussuria, "but you'll be a temporary placeholder for now. Meaning you'll be paid as a Varia general up until we scout someone better than you OR you prove yourself to us that you really are Varia material."

"Oh… okay then."

With a final haughty look, Squalo turned on his heel and left.

"Ah…"

"Oh this is just going to be _fabulous_!" Lussuria trilled as he flung his arms around Rachael and Fran in a bone-crunching hug. "We have two new members joining our dysfunctional family!"

Rachael grimaced. "Yeah… just _fabulous_."

* * *

**(AN: The following information pertaining to this fanfiction is historically/culturally/geographically etc. accurate. Cited from Wikipedia and Google Maps)**

_1. Idioti: idiots (Italian)_

_2. Chuck Norris: an American martial artist, action star and television and film actor who is known for action roles such as Cordell Walker on Walker, Texas Ranger, his iconically tough image and roundhouse kick._

_3. Oh Mein Gott: Oh my God (German)_

_4. Fessacchione: Big idiot (Italian)_

_5. Luciano: an Italian male name meaning light._

_6. Nube di Pantera: Cloud Panther (Italian)_

_7. Flashbang grenade: a nonlethal weapon, similar in many respects to a true grenade. The flash of light momentarily activates all photosensitive cells in the retina, making vision impossible for approximately five seconds until the eye restores the retina to its original, unstimulated state._

_8. Beretta AR70/90: An assault rifle supplied to all Carabinieri staff._

_9. Canon: In Lussuria's interview with Fran, he mentions that Squalo scouted him for the Varia and upon refusing, Belphegor kidnapped him._

_10. Po River: __a river that flows eastward across northern__Italy__,_

_11. Hertz: a German surname._

_12. Carabinieri in pop culture: in movies and television, the Carabinieri are often portrayed as a bumbling bunch._


	4. Thank God Cinderella had a Godmother

Rachael Hertz & fanfiction: CloudGateau

Katekyo Hitman Reborn concept: Akira Amano

Pairings: None

**Extras: **Go to my profile to see my references for the story details!

**Cloud:** … Yes, I know it has been roughly 10 months. -_-'

**Living in Sin**

_Chapter 4 .:Welcome to the family:._

_The first time is always the hardest_

_

* * *

_

Rachael woke with a start; not to the sweet song of bird, but to the ear-splitting yells of Squalo.

"Stupid alarm. Ughhh…. No bacon, want sausages."

Eyes still glued shit, her arms shot out to grab the Mickey Mouse alarm clock that usually woke her up with a jovial "Wakey, wakey, Eggs and bakey!"

Instead, her hand collided painfully against something hard and rigid.

"Gah!" Rachael's head appeared from under the covers. "_Was_---?"

Her face came an inch away from an ornately carved, mahogany headboard. She stared at it, confused as her vision focused and her memories reformed.

Rachael supposedly emerged victorious from the scramble for the position of Varia's Cloud. She befriended Fran, a mist illusionist who also made it into the Varia's elite. Afterwards, they met their squad members Squalo and Lussuria and watched the blow up the castle (it turned out the castle actually belonged to an arms-trafficker the Varia recently assassinated). A driver sent from headquarters picked them up in a luxurious, black Rolls-Royce which Rachael remembered falling asleep in…

Her eyes began to close when an explosion from downstairs rattled the building and bits of plaster rained down onto her bed.

"Never mind, I'm awake anyways," Rachael grumbled as she yanked the covers off. Pulling the curtains apart, Rachael yawned as sunlight streamed into and illuminated the room. She stood there motionless and raised her eyebrows, impressed.

The room overlooked not only the driveway and garden, but a lush valley and mountain range. She could see a large town not far from her room as well as a twinkling lake to the east. Rachael admired the scenic view a while longer, turned around and her awe turned to astonishment, then glee.

"This room… is bigger than my flat."

The room well-furnished room also tripled the size of her previous home. Warm, rosily colored walls complimented the creamy white ceiling and plush carpet. The four-postered bed Rachael slept in could fit at least two people. In the corner, a full body mirror stood alongside a heavy, wood wardrobe. In another corner, a squishy armchair, complete with plump footrest, stood underneath tall lamp and bookshelf. A large desk supported a VAIO laptop computer, printer-scanner, and an assortment of office supplies. A long bench with several posh pillows extended underneath the wide, bay windows. Next to it, French windows opened up to a small balcony.

Rachael peaked into the bathroom. The buttery marble and warm, white ceramic seemed to have a euphoric effect on Rachael for she staggered at the door and mentally cried tears of happiness.

"A bathroom I can actually move around in…"

After she got a hold of herself, Rachael located her boots by the door. She pulled them on and as she turned to find her jacket, she spotted a folded square of clothing on a chair. Shaking the jacket out, Rachael recognized it as the uniform Lussuria and Squalo wore.

She rubbed the jacket against her face, sighing "oh… so fuzzy," before sliding it on and buttoning it up. Rachael stood in front of the mirror, slightly alarmed but marveled by how well the jacket fit her.

Rachael stuck her hands in her pockets for effect and felt two objects, one papery and one metallic. She pulled out a piece of paper and a ring engraved with the Varia insignia. Rachael held the letter up to the light.

"_Rachael dear, as you might have figured for yourself, this room is now yours—"_

Rachael silently did a victory dance.

"—_and the jacket is also custom-made and tailored to fit you (I'm a pro at guessing people's measurements). The ring is the official design for the Varia and it holds a high purity, A-grade gem within. Yours will produce a cloud based flame. Make sure to get your box weapon fitted for the Varia design (if we ever locate that elusive Box-Maker). _

_Breakfast is at 8:00 am and everyone deals with lunch and dinner on their own. You have the option of eating what the chefs cook up but I wouldn't recommend it (we replace them every day). We will often go without seeing one another the entire week. But on Sunday afternoons, the elite core members absolutely must gather for their traditional dinner get together (it's in the second dining hall to the left of the grand staircase, not the main dining hall). _

_As for our missions, we are assigned operations by email and paired up according to the difficulty of the task and requirements needed to accomplish it. _

_Laundry day is on Monday so just leave the hamper out after showering. _

_I'll be on a mission for the next two days so ask Squalo if you have any questions. Good luck dear!_

_~Lussuria_

_P.S Your belongings are in the wardrobe."_

Rachael smiled. She took comfort in knowing she could rely on someone to help her. In spite of this, the note puzzled her to no end. What exactly were "cloud-based flames" and "boxes" anyway? As she stared at the ring helplessly and vainly raked through her brain for answers, Rachael did not notice the door open or the figure that slipped in. The figure made his way towards the unsuspecting Rachael and reached out to grab her shoulder.

Rachael yelped and whirled around to confront her assailant. However, she did not expect in a million years, to come face to face with a giant frog.

"Good morning," the frog said.

Rachael stared.

The frog sighed and tilted its head back. There stood Fran, wearing a Varia jacket much like her own, and looking more somber than usual. An enormous frog hat had hidden him from Rachael who was a head taller.

"_Was…?"_ Fran cut her off.

"I just met the same fallen prince who tried to kidnap me back in Turin. He insisted I wear this ridiculous hat and when I refused, he threw knives at me. Which reminds me, would you mind pulling these out?" Fran added, turning around.

Rachael wordlessly yanked out several strangely shaped knives imbedded in his back. When Fran turned around, he waited to be pelted with the millions of questions Rachael eagerly wanted to ask. Instead, they stood there in awkward silence.

"Breakfast?"

.::.

Fran led Rachael to one of the private kitchens. Squalo was the only person sitting at the kitchen table when they arrived. He scowl worsened when he saw Rachael cringe in response to his glare.

"Um... good morning."

Once they settled into their seats and helped themselves to _caffè e latte_, hot chocolate and _fette biscottate_, Squalo lowered his own cup.

"Lussuria and Levi are on missions. Belphegor just left and Boss is in Kiev, killing some _testa di merda_ drug lord who decided to cross into our territory."

"Who?"

Squalo's eye twitched.

"They're your leader and your squad members, _fessacchione_."

'Bad fortune is a cruel, sadistic bitch,' Squalo thought.

This morning, some _idiota_ brought C4 into the building and it would have blown up half the castle if he hadn't hurled it off the cliff. Squalo continued on to stop Belphegor from chasing Fran around the castle because they endangered the lives of the staff. The Boss fired the head chef for the 5th time this month. (Actually, Xanxus, always the fickle eater, chucked his dish at Squalo and shot the poor chef in the leg.) The chef escaped but nevertheless, Squalo was stuck with the delicate and difficult task of finding a new chef.

And now, Squalo was forced to drill two new members who didn't seem to know their elbows from their asses.

Squalo felt a migraine coming on and he furiously rubbed his temples.

"You know, rubbing your temples actually adds pressure to your temporal bone. You should open your jaw to relieve the pressure," Fran broke in.

"SHUT UP! I don't need you telling me this!" Squalo, "You're on your fucking own. I'm calling in sick. Oh… damn it to fuck, my head is killing me." He slapped a file down on the table, and stomped out, in search of the holy medicine cabinet.

"Pfft, what a drama queen."

"Actually, think she's just going through _that_ time of month."

"Um, I think Squalo's a _guy_."

"Ah… could've fooled me."

Nonetheless, Rachael slid the folder in front of her:

* * *

Mission: Rank B

Event time: 7:00 pm GMT London

Event Date: December 1st

Destination: Royal Armouries Museum, London, England

Brief: Michel Medici, world renowned businessman, art collector and philanthropist, will be holding a Renaissance Art Auction for Haiti at the 20XX Masquerade Ball. However, one of the pieces is a rumored copy and may contain precious information on the Vongola Famiglia. The painter was a spy who sold this painting just before he was killed.

Objective: Infiltrate the ball and switch target painting with a second replica [see building floor plan]. Eliminate any and all obstacles.

Prep: Send personal weapons and box weapons to Alonzo who will hide them in the air duct in the men's main bathroom [see building floor plan].

Detour to Venice for masquerade masks and costume fitting at Carta Alta and Tragicomica - Fabbrica Maschere Costumi [see map].

Fly to London and stay at the Holiday Inn Express Hotel in Leeds City Centre until event date. Access weapons and replica painting in the men's bathroom air duct and them make switch.

Deliver target painting to CEDEF through agent Basil who will meet you at the hotel. Report back to Sicily afterwards and deliver a report to headquarters...

* * *

Brushing biscottate crumbs off of the folder, Rachael asked, "Want to leave right after we finish?"

Fran gulped down his hot chocolate and wiped a frothy mustache from his upper lip.

"Sure. It's not like our loud-mouthed commander is any condition to come with us, anyways."

.::.

During the 1 and a half hour flight from Sicily to Veneto, Rachael and Fran watched The Departed. They didn't get to finish however, and the pilot was forced to throw them down the evacuation slide, despite their pleas of '10 more minutes Signor Pilota.'

From the airport, they took a cab across the Ponte della Libertà into the heart of the City of Masks.

Rachael stared up at the weathered buildings and carved bridges with awe as she and Fran passed underneath by gondola. She had visited Venice once as a child but she was no less amazed.

At Carta Alta, Fran picked out an ornately painted plague doctor mask for himself. Rachael's mask was more simply shaped; a shimmery, darker grey, detailed in silver thread with flourishing yet elegant silver wire that branched off from the mask's right.

Tragicomica wasn't too far away so they practiced walking with their masks on until Rachael nearly stumbled into a canal.

"Forget getting past security and switching the paintings, I think walking with these things on is the hardest challenge," Rachael grumbled as she released Fran's forearms.

At Tragicomica, the costume shop, Fran easily found a suit that fit him. Rachael, however, had a hard time picking out a dress.

She only wore dresses when she was small. Now, Rachael stood, eyes narrowed, before the selection of poufy, colorful ball gowns. Fran sidled up next to her.

"I'm glad I'm not a girl. Clothing is a lot less complex when you're a guy."

"If you're not going to help, I'm forcing you into one of these."

Fran thought for a second, and then called over an attendant, a pretty, blond woman. Whispering into her ear, the attendant smiled and in rapid Italian, rallied the shop staff.

Rachael stared as the blond attendant clambered onto the checkout desk and into the intercom, began yelling orders.

"Allllright ladies! This is the big one! We gotta find** her**" She jabbed a finger at Rachael, "a dress for a ball. Whoever finds her dream dress gets…" she paused for dramatic effect, "the feeling of a job well done!"

Rachael furrowed her eyebrows. 'They're not going to—"

But despite the meager winning, Rachael was shocked when shoes clattered across the wooden floors and attendants scrambled for dress racks and shelves. Silk gowns and high heels went flying as the store went into frenzy.

Rachael, too shocked for words, merely stood and gaped.

In the end, they succeeded. With the combined efforts of the entire shop staff, random customers willing to help, and Fran's critical eye, they found a pale blue-grey dress that matched the mask. A customer selected a pair of gun-metal grey flats and a matching necklace for Rachael.

Taking the shoes and dress from the blond attendant, Rachael stuttered a 'thank you' and made her way towards the checkout counter when suddenly; strong arms latched onto Rachael.

"Eh?"

The attendants' eyes glinted.

"You are planning to purchase those without trying them on, are you signora?"

Before Rachael could answer, they dragged her into a dressing room and snapped the curtains shut. After a few minutes of muffled protests as attendants forced Rachael into her costume, she emerged, face flushed and shivering.

Rachael stood, slightly hunched and arms crossed in front of the full length mirror. With the mask on, she would have never guessed her reflection was hers.

The dress strapless, intricately but gently ruched at the bodice and flowed from the hips. It was roughly the same shade as her steely, blue-grey eyes, and the fabric grew lighter at the hem.

The neckpiece consisted of strips of dark grey lace that wound around her neck unevenly. Tiny jeweled keys, picture frames and other trinkets hung from the lace strips, densely at the chest and more sparsely up the neck.

Satisfied, the store staff finally let Fran and Rachael purchase and stagger out of the shop.

"I'm no expert," Fran said flopping into his chair aboard the plane to England, "but I think we should've chosen the dress first, and then matched the mask with the dress."

"Sh—shut up," Rachael groaned, forehead pressed against the window.

* * *

**(AN: The following information pertaining to this fanfiction is historically/culturally/geographically etc. accurate. Cited from Wikipedia and Google Maps)**

_1. Was?: What?__(German)_

_2. Rolls Royce: __is a British manufacturer of luxury automobiles based in__Goodwood__, England._

_3. caffè e latte: (from the Italian caffelatte, meaning "coffee [and] milk") is a type of coffee drink made with hot milk. It is regularly drunk at breakfast. _

_4. fette biscottate: __a cookie-like hard bread often eaten with butter and jam and__biscotti__(cookies)_

_5. Kiev, Ukraine: is the capital and the largest city of Ukraine, located in the north central part of the country on the Dnieper River. _

_6. testa di merda: shithead_

_7. Fessacchione: big idiot_

_8. Royal Armouries Museum: is a national museum in Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. I chose this building because it actually hosts a Masquerade Ball in December. _

_9. Carta Alta: a Venetian mask manufacturer. _

_10. Tragicomica: A costume shop located in Venice Italy_

_11. Holiday Inn Express Hotel: Located in the Leeds City Centre. I chose this hotel because it was the closest to the Royal Armouries Museum. _

_12. Veneto, Italy:__is one of the 20 regions of Italy. Venice is its capital. _

_13. The Departed: is an American crime film. Fran and Rachael watched the 2006 version. _

_14. Ponte della Libertà: (the Freedom Bridge) connects the city of Venice to Mestre, on the mainland. __The airport Fran and Rachael landed in was the Tessera_

_Aeroporto di Venezia Marco Polo (translated: Venice Marco Polo Airport). _

_15. Venice, Italy: is a city in northern Italy, famous because its buildings are built on stilts over water. Venice has been known as the "Queen of the Adriatic "," City of Water "," City of Masks"," City of Bridges and City of Canals._

_16. Ruche: A ruffle or pleat of lace, muslin, or other fine fabric used for trimming women's garments._


	5. Pedophiles Make Horrible Roommates

Rachael Hertz & fanfiction: CloudGateau

Katekyo Hitman Reborn: Akira Amano

Pairings: Thinking on it

**Cloud:** If you're reading this, then you've probably noticed I changed the pairings status. No? Look one or two lines up. I realized that even a romance-oblivious idiot like Rachael would probably feel _something _in a world with good-looking mafioso.

Amano is quite consistent on producing one cute guy after another, and for that, I salute her. However, don't expect too much because even I don't know what direction this story will head in terms of romance. I'm not too keen on writing a romance story so I'm keeping it to a minimum.

I plan to pair characters as canon-ly as possible. For example, as much as I like the 182769 double-triangle, I don't think any of the three will realistically happen in the series (but I can hope).

So, suggestions are welcome. Between my Rachael and whoever you're willing to toss into the ring or between two other characters, **SUGGEST AND REVIEW** WITH YOUR DYING WILL!

Oh yes. My Ap exams and finals are coming up, so I probably won't update until summer break. Hopefully, you guys are still interested till then. oAo

**Extras**: Go to my profile to see my compiled map and images of Leeds and the Royal Armouries Museum. _**It took me so long**_ to find the exact locations of each site (e.g the hotel, the restaurant, the museum) and to figure out the features of Clarence Dock from a tourist's point-of-view. I also posted links to Fran and Rachael's masks. If you're wondering about Rachael's dress, I made it up so there's no reference. oAo

**Warning:** Crude jokes and language ahead!

**Living in Sin**

_Chapter 4 .:Welcome to the family:._

_As I've said, the first time is always the hardest_

_

* * *

_

"Mmmrh… read author's comments," Rachael slurred into the blanket.

Fran cocked an eyebrow and looked up from Patrick Süskind's, _'Perfume'_. Turning to the plane window, he watched the glittering city lights of Leeds, England until the pilot announced they would be landing soon.

Fran prodded Rachael with the corner of his book. She woke bleary eyed, aching, and rumpled. After popping the bones in her neck with a content sigh, Rachael pulled her backrest upright.

"Finally," Rachael grumbled as she rubbed an eye of sleep. "I was prepared to shoot something after watching all those mob movies."

.::.

From the airport, they took a cab to the Holiday Inn Express Hotel which was located beside the Royal Armouries Museum. Fran and Rachael checked into adjoining rooms so they could easily reach one another through the connecting door.

"Right, we still have two days to kill before the Masquerade. What do you want to do?"

Before Fran could answer, the phone rang. Rachael reached over, plucked the receiver up and put it to her ear.

"**VOOOIIIIIIIIII!**"

"It's Squalo, isn't it?" Fran asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," Rachael croaked, holding the receiver away from her ear. Bracing herself, she brought the phone back against her head.

"—two better not screw up!"

"Why thank you Squalo. We made the trip safely," Rachael said sardonically.

Squalo grunted and then hung up the phone.

"I don't think he's finished _man_strating," Rachael yawned.

"Figures," Fran sniffed. "Well, I'm turning in. We can sight see tomorrow."

"Night then."

After Fran gently shut the door behind him, Rachael lay in bed, trying to drift into sleep.

"Bloody hell," Rachael muttered before clambering out of bed and sitting down in front of the hotel computer monitor.

She browsed around New York Times and YouTube for a while, finding nothing of interest to pass the time. Then, remembering a blog she had once wrote in as a frustrated teen, Rachael navigated to WordPress and logged in.

Smiling, Rachael found that her random ramblings still existed.

Clicking a random entry from her Junior year of high school, Rachael read:

_//week long breaks are conspiracies to break students\\_

_It's spring break for this young, fresh mind and yet, for me, I am far from relaxed. This is no break, it is a conspiracy-hatched by teachers and the government- to crack our spirit and doom us._

_The week following break, is ALWAYS the busiest. Those people we call teachers load us with tests, homework and quizzes because it'll be a week before they can begin torturing us again._

_We see them, smiling, as we sweat over our desks-our trembling fingers smudging the extra small print- as we hastily bubble our scantrons and circle our answers._

_"Using a barometer, how can you measure the height of a building?"_

_I don't bloody know- tie a measuring tape to it and fling it over the side of building!_

_Sigh._

_Then as we trudge out the doors to another 50 minute session of hell, we hear "Have a wonderful break." Our corners of our mouths twitch, as we know we cannot possibly have a "wonderful break."_

_Whoever decided spring break was a genius- a sadistic, conniving genius. Placed a month before our aptitude tests, we are forced to spend our one week period of freedom, chained to our textbooks. I mentally sob, at the amount of dates, names, and formulas I have to remember, to even think of scraping a pass on the aptitude exam._

_And if we decide __No! No! I will not be held down!__ and we push our review books away from us, like a child refusing her or her broccoli, our teachers-at-home (The Parents), descend upon us like vultures on a dead cow. And depending on where their morals lie, they may nag, and paddle, and (oh dear god) __lecture us__ until we learn that we are never alone._

_Then when we trudge back into our classrooms, one week later, we look up to see the smiling faces of our teachers again. And we sigh, and we shake our heads, and take our pencils and papers out. _

Rachael chortled. She did not remember being that melodramatic as a teen.

Inspire, Rachael clicked 'New Post' and paused over the keyboard. The corner of her lip curling up in a grimace, she typed.

_//always read the fine print\\_

_As an idiot who forgot to read the fine print on a job ad, I found myself in an exciting, not to mention dangerous new environment. What can I say? Structurally, my new job isn't that much different from my previous job. There are the similar partner-based assignments, the same rules, but most importantly, the same, scary superiors. _

_The assignments themselves are unsurprisingly risky. Hell, even when I'm not on duty, my workplace is a war-zone. (I live at my workplace so waking up to explosions and blood-curdling screams isn't out of the ordinary.) Most of my co-workers are out to get me (errr, I kind of cheated them out of this job) so I'm basically always on guard. Other than my recent discovery of the 'toys' my co-workers use in their line of work (no sexual relevance, whatsoever), nothing remotely interesting has happened. _

_I've only met three of my work team and I like two of them. One's a little… let's say he's like a banana while the other's as cool as a cucumber. Ugh… I just noticed both these fruits are phallic in shape. _

_Banana is eccentric and syrupy but he's been extremely friendly and helpful, and for that I am grateful. Cucumber on the other hand is detached but sharp-mouthed. Other than being newcomers, we are both quite similar. _

_As for the third colleague I've personally met, to compare him to a fruit or vegetable would be like comparing puppies with Gatling guns. My third co-worker is as high-strung as a menstruating woman with two hyper-active 6 year olds. I can tell this one never shuts up and has caused at least a few dozen incidents of hearing problems. (I think I mistook him for a woman when I first met him too.) The memories of this Perpetually Mercurial Soprano (or P.M.S) aren't pleasant. _

_And perks! Let us not forget the perks that come with a job! If you work at a store, you get employee discount. If you're a celebrity, you get invited to big parties and events. The one perk that comes with my job? I get to travel a lot. I'm currently on my first trip and other than getting jet-lag and numb-butt on a 2-and-a-half hour flight, it's not too bad. _

_So far, things aren't looking as bad as I've seen them. But seeing as I've just jinxed it, who knows what I'll encounter along the way._

_- R. Hz ("Baudelaire No. 4")_

Glancing at the clock, Rachael realized it was 3:28 am and decided to call it quits for the night. She fell asleep with her day-clothes on.

.::.

"_Scheiße!_"

"What is it?" Fran poked his head into the room.

Rachael gestured hysterically.

"We're going to have to dance at the Masquerade, aren't we?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I can't dance." Rachael wailed, "I'm going to screw up and Squalo's gonna lecture me and _mein Gott_, I'll probably die, listening to him 'Voiiii.'"

"Well, that is a problem. I hate lectures too," Fran pulled back into his room.

"You aren't worried? Hold on, you can dance, can't you."

Fran did not reply so Rachael strode into his room to find him changing out of his pajamas.

"Ahh! Pedophile!"

"Argh! Naked child!" Rachael yelled, flinging her arms in front of her face.

She then blindly ran towards her room only to hit a wall. Reeling in pain, she fell to her knees, forehead bruised and lip split slightly.

"Liked what you saw?" Fran said with a wry smirk as he kneeled next to her. Head throbbing, Rachael glared at him through her watering eyes.

"Not even an 'I'm sorry'?" she said hoarsely.

"Not to a Pedobear? No."

"Pedobear? The hell's a pedo---no, nevermind. I don't need to know. Anyways, your _chesticles _are showing _fräulein_."

Fran yanked his shirt close and began buttoning it. Rachael groggily rose to her feet and waited until he finished.

"Fran, you know how to dance, don't you?"

Her partner sighed.

"Yes."

"Could you teach me?"

Fran didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then, shoulders slumping, he muttered, "Well, better you than that fallen prince."

"Great! Thanks, I owe you."

"I'll keep those words in mind," Fran said wryly. They stood in silence, looking at one another. "What are you doing? Get your shoes."

"Oh, we're practicing now? Okay, okay. Don't give me that look," Rachael flushed as she ran from the room.

Fran pinched his nose, regretting his decision for a brief moment before we went to change into his shoes.

Emerging from her room, Rachael expected to see Fran waiting for her. Instead, a tall man stood with his back to her and Fran, nowhere in sight.

Heart racing, Rachael immediately thought that a rival Family had sent an assassin to eliminate them. Biting back a whimper, Rachael prayed that Fran had only been captured before she silently crept towards the stranger.

_Closer. Closer. _

The man began to turn and Rachael lunged at him, her police instincts taking over her. Knocking him to the carpeted floor with a loud thud, Rachael locked her knees around his sides and pulled the man's arms behind him.

"Who are you and who sent you?" Rachael growled.

Incredulously, Rachael heard the man sigh in exasperation.

"Rachael you idiot, it's me."

To Rachael's astonishment, the man's body dissolved into smoke, revealing a very annoyed and bruised Fran.

"Get off me," Fran said, his voice slightly muffled,

The flustered woman immediately jumped up and pulled Fran up. He brushed himself off before he strode past her to the middle of the space and cleared his voice. Rachael turned towards him with an incredulous look.

"How the hell did you do that?"

"An illusion," Fran said slowly, crinkling his eyebrows. "How can you not know?"

Rachael sputtered, "How can I not know? How can I not know? You turned into some kind of Benjamin Button… wait, you're not actually some old-fart are you?"

"_Baka_, Benjamin Button aged backwards. And no, I am not an old-fart."

"Could've fooled me with your personality and all," Rachael muttered under her breath. "But seriously, an illusion? You certainly felt real to me."

Sighing, Fran briefly explained about _real_ illusions and its different types of uses.

"I think I've developed some sort of slasher-theme to my illusions though. I blame my master for his bad influence on me."

"Oh, alright. Thankfully, it's not the weirdest thing I've seen," Rachael mused, scratching the bridge of her nose.

"Rachael," Fran said suddenly, "you do know what box weapons and flames are?"

"I---" Rachael paused. Lussuria had probably mentioned the same 'box weapons' and 'flames.' "No. What are they?"

"You should have fought people using those weapons during your battle royale."

"Oh! Those flaming animal things." After she miraculously survived that ordeal, Rachael had put her encounter with the box-animals out of her mind. "Yeah. But, that was the first time I've ever seen anything like it. Can you explain to me---?"

Even though Fran kept his face completely devoid of emotion, he was completely stunned. From moment he had met Rachael, the illusionist had never felt any aura of resolution about her. He also sensed that she was unconscious of the true nature of the mafia clans and the power they held. 'How on God's name did this woman survive without knowing anything about box-weapons?'

Fran now felt an uneasiness he rarely felt. Her confession to not knowing about the boxes and presumably, the rings had thrown him off. Is she telling the truth or is she pretending? Rachael was either a complete idiot who, on total luck, survived a room full of armed mafioso or someone extremely dangerous and cunning enough to put on this façade to fool those around her.

"Fran?"

The illusionist snapped out of his contemplative reverie and looked at Rachael warily.

With great deliberation, Fran asked her how she had defeated all the other contenders in the battle royale.

"Huh, oh. Um…" Rachael had hoped it would never come to this. Her triumph in the Varia's selection process had been one, enormously, mind-boggling fluke. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise to not tell anyone."

Fran nodded, feeling anxious about the abnormality in her lack of knowledge.

Taking a deep breath, Rachael explained about her dismissal from the Carabinieri and her one month of intense job-searching. She had been desperate enough to answer Lussuria's ad and contend in the ring scramble. Then, with great difficulty and chagrin, Rachael explained how she had 'defeated' the other contestants by hiding and taking out the last man standing.

With every pause in her speech, Fran's circumspection melted into a wordless surprise. Rachael couldn't have possibly been feigning her obliviousness. Fran's training in clairvoyance and lie detection told him that Rachael was completely truthful. _Her success up to this point was the result of an enormous amount of luck. _It was almost too bizarre to be true.

An awkward silence had fallen between the two after Rachael's story. After a few more seconds of ill-easement, Rachael spoke up.

"Er… so that's _my _story. You still have to tell me what those flaming animals are."

Grimacing, Fran moved over to the bed, sat down, and gestured at a nearby chair. After Rachael settled down, Fran described the history, the power, and the types of rings, flames, and boxes.

"So, you cast that illusion from mist flames just to mess with me?"

"No Rachael. I'm actually a purple aardvark who enjoys parading around in a suit made of human skin," Fran said, rolling his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, I'm shorter than you by a head. I thought it would be more convenient this way since you're more likely to dance with a grown man."

"Oh, I see now." Rachael was surprised their conversation had actually wound its way back to dancing.

"Oh, I see now? No tearful apology?"

Discomfort pushed aside, the two team members resumed their usual banter.

"Hey, you didn't either and I seriously thought you were in trouble. You should've warned me or something. We're even now."

"Point taken, child-stalker," Fran said with a small smirk. "Let's start, we've wasted enough time." Fran morphed back into a taller version of himself and pulled his hair back into a short ponytail.

He took Rachael's right hand into his and placed his left onto her waist. Fran felt Rachael jolt. "Don't worry; it's not molestation until your partner's hand starts straying from your waist."

"I-I'm ticklish."

"Put your hand onto my shoulder. Good. Now, keep your back straight and your shoulders back. You must hold your frame like this and dance without slouching."

Rachael adjusted her upper torso and Fran nodded.

"You're most likely going to dance to a waltz so I'll teach you the box-step. So first, take a step back with your right."

Rachael moved and her knee collided painfully with his.

"… _Your _right. _Mio Dio_. The male leads so you have to follow him. Let's try again."

They both took a step towards the windows.

"Now, with your left, step to your left. Good. Bring your right to your left. Hold your frame. Now step forward with your left--- don't look at your feet ---and your right to your right. And your left to your right. Again."

They repeated the box-step until Rachael could mimic the movements confidently. Fran went on to teach her the Natural and Reverse turns.

"I know you've stepped on me twice now but don't look at your feet."

_Left. Right. Turn. Forward and back. _

"Hold your frame, you're slouching again."

"Hey Fran?"

"Hm?"

"Where did you learn to dance?"

A beat. "Turin Academy requires at least 2 years of dance lessons upon graduation. It was a toss-up between ballroom and ballet. Use your logic."

Grinning ruefully, Rachael suddenly envisioned Fran in a black leotard and lime-green leg warmers, en pointe and dancing to _Swan Lake_. Fran raised an eyebrow when Rachael's shoulders began to shake in laughter.

_Right. Left. Right. Left. Forward. Sideways. Backwards. Sideways._

"Okay. Now. Alternate the Box-Step with the Natural and Reverse. Six steps Natural, three steps Box, Six Steps Reverse, and three steps Natural until you've mastered it."

Rachael panicked and accidently stepped on his foot again.

"Ouch. Start with your _left_."

_Natural. Box. Reverse. Box. Natural. _

"And now, with music." Fran searched YouTube, selected several songs and put them onto a quicklist. He grasped Rachael's hand and waist just as the music started. They danced to orchestral versions of Ravel's _La Valse,_ Franz Lehár's_The Merry Widow Waltz_ and Ion Ivanovici's _Waves of the Danube_.

"Okay, stop. You've got it."

Rachael dropped onto the bed, exhaling deeply. They danced for over an hour and her flats were starting to pinch her toes.

"We'll practice again tonight, and before we leave for the Ball tomorrow," Fran said, picking at his laces. He had resumed his normal form.

"Hey, Fran?

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"Treat me to breakfast and I'll consider accepting your thank you."

"Alright, alright."

.::.

Located a short distance from the hotel, was the uber-fashionable Italian restaurant, Larocca. The interior was cozily ambient with textured reds, creams and browns. Picture frames depicting classic Italian themes festooned the walls and a gleaming black piano nestled in-between the restaurant and the bar area.

"Bon appetit!"

"Bon appetito."

Seated at one of Larocca's rich mahogany tables, Rachael and Fran were just about to tuck into their meals. Thanks to their rise and morning activities, Rachael and Fran had skipped breakfast and moved onto lunch. Luckily for the waitress serving them, both knew English so they didn't waste time ordering.

Both had ordered _Farfalle al salmone_, firm butterfly shaped pasta with meaty chunks of salmon served with cherry tomatoes in a rich cream sauce and topped off with a huge slice of fresh smoked salmon. Between them was a roasted suckling pig in a parmesan basket they had ordered on a whim. The waitress chuckled when Rachael called it _Spanferkel. _

"Ah… so good," Rachael said through a mouthful of pork.

"I honestly find it strange that we're eating Italian food when we just flew from Italy."

"It was either that pizza place, or this. You picked."

They ate in silence for a while until the waitress came by to refill their drinks. Fran sipped his coffee, set the cup down and then turned to look straight at Rachael.

"Other than your training from the Carabinieri, what other skills do you have?"

Rachael stared back. She did have a certain ability that would help tremendously in fights. However, she wasn't sure she wanted to bring it up. In the past, Rachael had abused her ability by using it to accomplish everyday tasks, which consequently drew a lot of unwanted attention. As a child, she had been admired, but then betrayed by her classmates because of her ability.

"I have one, but I haven't used it in a long while," Rachael whispered.

"How come?"

Rachael hesitated. "Let's say that it got me in a lot of trouble."

"This is the underworld. There are always risks everywhere you go when you're a mafioso---"

"Temporary stand in."

"Mafioso tend to ignore those details," Fran said, raising his cup to his lips. "It's better to use everything you've got when your life is constantly in danger. Besides, in the underworld, everyone has some sort of power or ability---like in the D-C Comic and Marvel multi-verse."

Rachael entwined her fingers, rested her chin on them and thought. She was already neck deep in danger as it was so there was no use hiding it anymore. Seeing the point in his words, Rachael leaned towards him.

"I'm a language-user."

Fran blinked. "So am I."

The corner of Rachael's mouth twitched before she looked to the next table which was currently vacant. She then glanced around at the surrounding tables; everybody was preoccupied.

"See that half empty wine glass?" Rachael extended her hand and held it above their table, as if grasping an invisible rod. "_Weinglas!_"

The glass vanished and appeared in her hand. Rachael set the glass to the side.

"If I_ intend_ an object to be moved, I can vocally teleport it," Rachael explained to a genuinely interested Fran.

"Can you teleport?"

"No. There are a lot of rules concerning my power. I'm not sure if I'll ever overcome those rules or if they're set in stone. I don't really plan on trying."

"What sort of rules?"

"Hmm… there is a time limit for one. If the object doesn't belong to me, then it'll automatically go back to its owner in about 5 to 10 minutes. I have to know what the object looks like, and what it is called. I can't summon food, organic matter, organisms or any elements. There's a lot more, but those are the most annoying rules."

"Ah, you're like Zatanna."

"Zatanna? Speaking of which, I never figured you for the comic book type."

"That's where you're wrong. I have a good collection of Batman, Spiderman, Wolverine, Ironman and Superman. I also have manga—"

"Japanese cartoons, right?"

"Correct. Naruto, Bleach, and One Piece are the three most popular. I hope to be like a superhero like Ichigo because he's powerful, but detached and "cool" unlike Naruto and Luffy."

"… I see."

"But as I was saying, you need to use everything to your advantage. Your ability's useful but you'll never survive without knowing how to use box-weapons."

The brunette set her fork down and leaned back.

"How then? I don't even have a box of my own."

"First, let's see if you can even ignite the ring." Fran shifted in his seat. "You have to imagine your resolution as a flame."

"My… resolution?"

Fran glanced about the restaurant before slipping on a ring and sparking a small indigo flame. He then snuck the ring back into his pocket and looked up.

"Usually, people imagine what gives their life purpose. Like protecting your friends and family, or their ultimate goal. Others fuel their flames with hate, retribution, whatever makes them feel the strongest."

Rachael blanched. For as long as she could remember, people told her that she was the most undetermined person they had ever met. As a student, she met the bare minimum and dropped out of college early because of anxiety issues. Afterwards, she worked as a plumber, having learned the basic skills from her father who was quite adept at fixing things. After realizing it could not provide the livelihood she needed, Rachael finished school in Berlin. Though, her experience as a plumber was not a complete failure as it gave her a powerful immune system.

The majority of Rachael's entire life was based on just surviving the day with the least amount of effort. She was not in the least ambitious nor did she care what others think of her lifestyle. Rachael was not the type to seek approval; all she wanted was to live her life without being criticized. This poor combination of nonchalant attitude and aloofness was what made her such a disappointment to her parents. It was only after an encounter with a life-changing experience that made her realized her ingratitude and negligence. However, even after finishing school and getting into the Carabinieri, Rachael was still as laid-back as people came. Rachael was fully aware of it, which was why she highly doubted 'imagining her resolution' would be easy.

Nonetheless, Rachael discreetly put on the ring Lussuria gave her, and stared down at her hand. Nothing was coming to mind. Frowning, Rachael first thought of her family; her mother, father, and two older brothers.

_Protect. Protect. Protect._

Unfortunately, she knew that her brothers were more than capable to protect themselves and their parents. After all, they were stronger, smarter, and more successful than her.

Time to move on. What about fortitude? Rachael usually avoided conflict and trouble, but in disadvantageous situations, she didn't like to give in. If she was fighting for her survival, Rachael gritted her teeth and dove in. Focusing on fortitude, Rachael imagined it as flickering flames.

Nothing.

She disregarded focusing on her life's goal as she had none. Rachael tried thinking hateful thoughts. The only thing that came to mind was how Achille had convinced their superiors to fire her. She had wanted to march into his office and break his other ba--- Rachael stopped herself. Anger was not something she wanted to rely on if she were using a weapon. Besides, Rachael's anger never stuck around for long.

"It's fine if you don't get it immediately. Most people usually achieve flames in around 30 hours or so."

"How long did it take you?"

He paused. "10 minutes."

Sighing, Rachael removed the ring and went back to finishing her pasta. By the time desert came around, Rachael had pushed 'box weapons' and 'flames of resolution' out of her head. They shared a slice of tiramisu cake.

Bellies full, Rachael and Fran leaned back in their seats in blissful satisfaction. Or at least until Rachael saw the bill.

"£40?!"

Looking distraught, Rachael glanced at Fran who gazed back at her.

"No."

"Not even---"

"No."

"But---"

"I taught you ballroom for _free." _

"But _I_ told you _two_ secrets!"

"Ballroom dance lessons are around 15 Euros or more per hour. Since we're practicing two more times, 3 hours in a class comes to 45 Euros which is around 40 pounds. This trade-off is _completely_ fair."

Shoulders slumping in defeat and thinking she could never calculate in her head that quickly, Rachael paid for their two meals.

"_£40," _she mouthed in aggravation as she and Fran left the restaurant.

"It's just money," Fran said, sniffing.

Rachael sputtered, "Just money?! Just money?! I could've lived off that money for two weeks—maybe more."

Living on a plumber's income had made her extremely parsimonious. Even now with a better job, Rachael always felt a stabbing pain when paying for expensive commodities.

From Larocca, they circled around the building and walked down The Boulevard, Clarence Dock's main shopping street that radiated southbound off Armouries Square. They came into sight of museum entrance and kept walking to the end of the Boulevard. Turning left, they came across the Clarence Dock canal, a strip of water that connected with the River Aires.

"Ah, I just realized there isn't much to do except shop in Leeds."

"Too bad there aren't any of those Buckingham palace guards around. We could've had so much fun annoying them," Rachael said grinning. "I guess we could… talk."

"About what? Our favorite colors?"

"Well, I told you all my interesting stories. Let's hear one from you. For example, what's your master like?"

"Hm… my master is a pervert."

"Ah?"

"He's a sadist and really abusive too."

"Um… and you still train under him?

"Well, he's supposedly some famous criminal who escaped from Vendicare when he was a teen."

"Vendicare? Sounds like a_ Kindertagesstätte _or an old-person home."

"That's kind of true. It's a mafia prison said to be inescapable, or at least until Master broke out."

"That doesn't make him any less dangerous. Aren't you concerned that he's being chased by the feds?"

"No. He got caught again and he's been in there for almost 10 years." They sat down on some steps facing the canal.

"But, wouldn't that make you like, 7 years old when he trained you?"

"I met him when I was 7 and he's trained me for a several years."

"You just said he's been in prison for nearly 10 years."

"_Baka, _my master is skilled enough to cast illusions from inside his cell.

"Oh, Okay. So what's his name?"

"Rokudo Mukuro. Or just Mukuro"

"He's Japanese?"

"No, Italian."

"…Alright then. So, he's been training you by illusions? What does he do exactly? Possess a doll or is he like a ghost who pops in on you?"

"Well, both. He sometimes possesses people and animals and on more than one occasion, he's caught me off guard in my own bathroom."

"What a…. _great_ master you have."

"_Abusive pineapple head_," Fran muttered under his breath.

"Oh, tell me about how that fallen prince guy tried to kidnap you."

"What is there more to say? Actually, our loud-mouthed commander showed up first after I deleted his email. I refused his offer---he was making a racket and disturbing our neighbors---and then he sticks his sword through the door and catches me off guard. Then the degenerate prince shows up and throws his knives at me and they tie me up and abduct me."

"Eh? But I saw met at the 'job interview.'"

"I escaped and I had them chase after an illusion of myself."

"They didn't come after you after that?"

"It was a very good illusion."

"But, Squalo didn't seem to recognize you."

"I was disguised the first time. That stupid prince came back however and tried kidnapping me from my bedroom. I had to dive into the Po River to get rid of him."

"And he stopped after that?"

"No. He almost burned down the whole neighborhood before the long-haired commander said something to him, and they left."

"Any reason as to **why** they gave up?"

"I guess it would've been troublesome to deal with the cops, if they try to smoke me out."

"And you still answered their ad after they tried to abduct you?"

Fran was silent. Looking away from Rachael, he said, "Things at home got annoying."

Now Rachael fell silent. Neither said anything for a long while until Fran spoke up.

"When you said you ran away to the circus, were you running to the circus or were you running away from home?"

Rachael did not answer immediately. "The thing is Fran, I never _**really**_ ran away to the circus when I was ten."

Fran released his arms from around his legs and leaned back, "I thought so. I noticed your body language was very stiff and when you smiled, it was forced. Your eyes looked to the upper-right instead of upper-left, which means you were making it up."

Rachael gawked. "Daaammn…"

"I know what you were trying to do, but I don't need your pity."

"Sorry. It's just---"

"But you were truly empathetic when you told that story." Fran gazed at her, "So thanks, but no thanks. I don't want you feeling sad on my behalf when it actually doesn't bother me." _'I also don't want you recalling the problems in your own past.'_

"Alright. So we're good?"

"After you caught me naked, tackled me, stepped on my toes---"

"And after **you **scared me out of my wits, caused me to crash into a wall and mocked me for it, and wheedled two secrets out of me ---"

"All in a single day I might add."

"We'd be stupid not to call it 'good'"

* * *

**(AN: The following information pertaining to this fanfiction is historically/culturally/geographically etc. accurate. Cited from Wikipedia and Google Maps)**

_1. Perfume by Patrick Süskind:_ _Set in 18th century France, Perfume relates the story of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, "one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages". _

_____Born lacking a personal odor (a fact other people find disquieting) but endowed with an incomparable sense of smell, he apprentices himself to a perfumer and becomes obsessed with procuring the perfect scent that will make him fully human. In the process, he creates perfumes—presumably based on pheromones—that powerfully manipulate human emotions, murdering 25 girls to take their scent._

_2. Leeds, England: is a city and metropolitan borough in West Yorkshire, England. Leeds is the UK's largest centre for business, legal, and financial services, outside of London. _

_3. Royal Armouries Museum: is a national museum in Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. I chose this building because it actually hosts a Masquerade Ball in December._

_4. Holiday Inn Express Hotel: Located in the Leeds City Centre. I chose this hotel because it was the closest to the Royal Armouries Museum. _

_5. WordPress: is an open source blog publishing application. The tidbit Rachael read from her 'high school' years is actually a modified version of my own blog entry. _'_

_6. Gatling gun: is one of the best known early rapid-fire weapons and a forerunner of the modern machine gun._

_7. R. Hz: Rachael Hertz. Hz is the abbreviation of Hertz, the SI unit of frequency defined as the number of cycles per second of a periodic phenomenon. _

_8. Baudelaire No. 4: Rachael is referencing the Baudelaire children from "A Series of Unfortunate Events" by Lemony Snicket. She basically sees herself as the fourth Baudelaire. _

_9. Scheiße: 'crap' or 'shit' (German)_

_10. Mein Gott: oh my God (German)_

_11. Pedobear:_ _The cartoon character "Pedobear" is a renamed version of the 2chan ASCII art character "kuma". In his American incarnation, he is an anthropomorphic bear child predator that is often used within the community to mock contributors showing a sexual interest in under-age girls._

_12. Fräulein: German title for a young, unmarried woman. _

_13. Chesticles: slang for male nipples_

_14. Baka: idiot (Japanese)_

_15. Mio Dio: My God (Italian)_

_16. En Pointe: means "on the tips of the toes" and is part of classical ballet technique, made possible by specially reinforced shoes called pointe shoes or toe shoes._

_17. Swan Lake:_ _is a ballet by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. It tells the story of Odette, a princess turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer's curse._

_18. Arma dei Carabinieri: the national gendarmerie of Italy, policing both the military and civilian populations. Rachael belonged to the 3rd Carabinieri Battalion "Lombardy" in Milan before she was given the boot._

_19. Waltz: is a ballroom and folk dance in 3/4 time, performed primarily in closed position. The Box Step, Natural Turn, and Reverse Turn and combinations of ballroom steps. The version Fran taught Rachael is the International Standard Version. _

_20. Ravel's La Valse: described as a tribute to the waltz, but is in fact a less sentimental reflection of post-World War I Europe._

_21. Franz Lehár's The Merry Widow Waltz:_ _comes from the operetta The Merry Widow – concerning a rich widow, and her countrymen's attempt to keep her money in the principality by finding her the right husband._

_22. Ion Ivanovici's Waves of the Danube:_ _one of the most famous Romanian tunes in the world._

_23. Larocca: An actual Italian restaurant located in Clarence Lock, Leeds. According to reviews, the food and service is quite good. The interior I described is actually what Larocca looks like and the Farfalle al salmone and suckling pig is also served there. Yum! _

_24. Bon appetit: Bon appetite (German)_

_25. Bon appetito: Bon appetite (Italian)_

_26. In the Varia, one has to know at least 7 languages. I think Fran probably has that covered. Rachael on the other hand, knows three; her native German (dad), Italian (mom) and English (school). In Germany, English (and in many cases, Latin) is required. Rachael knows Latin through her Italian, but she still did poorly in the class. _

_27. Spanferkel: roasted suckling pig (German)_

_28. Rachael is referring to Pizza Express, a chain of pizza restaurants based in the United Kingdom. _

_29. Language-user: or Kotodama tsukai is a person who can summon objects when he or she emphasizes words. Examples of language-users include Kotoha Isone of the manga, Yozakura Quartet, or the characters of the manga, Loveless. _

_30. Weinglas: wine glass (German)_

_31. Zatanna: s a fictional character in the DC comics multiverse. She usually casts spells by speaking verbal commands backwards. She has also proven capable on many occasions of casting spells by speaking normally, and, in rarer occasions, the ability to use magic for simple tasks without speaking. _

_32. Tiramisu Cake:_ _is one of the most popular Italian cakes. It is made of savoiardi (otherwise known as lady finger biscuits) dipped in espresso or strong coffee or rum, layered with a whipped mixture of egg yolks, mascarpone cheese, and sugar, and topped with cocoa. _

_33. £40 is approximately 45.61€ or $61.56 USD. So expensive for just two people… _

_34: Clarence Dock: is a shopping and leisure destination in central Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. _

_35 The River Aires: is a major river in Yorkshire, England. _

_36:__ Kindertagesstätte: Child nursery or day care (German)._

_37: Fran's tale of how he met Squalo and Belphegor is canon. Albeit, I had to change some details to make it work in this fanfic. See Lussuria's Third Street – Fran on the Hitman Reborn LJ._

_38: When a person looks up and to the left, this indicates Visually Constructive Imaging. When a person looks up and to the right, this indicates Visually Remembered Images. So whereas looking to the upper right means you're bringing up a memory, looking to the upper left means you're thinking of something new, or in other words, lying. _


End file.
